TWD - Chapter 539: You’ve Freaking Defected! (Patreon)

Leah counted on her fingers. “There’s one, Cyrus. He used to be on Valentino’s team. We got along pretty well. Is he still alive?”

Benson nodded. “Cyrus... he’s alive. Pretty straightforward guy, doesn’t talk much. He’s one of the peripheral members now, so there’s a decent chance we can turn him.”

He paused. “He’s guarding the eastern sentry post right now, Post Three. During the shift change, he’ll be alone there for a while.”

During the forty-minute wait, the six of them huddled inside the ruined building and talked as quietly as possible. Benson did most of the talking, as if his time as a Reaper had left him desperate for conversation.

Forty minutes later, the shift change began.

Bossie continuously streamed the drone feed to Carver’s tablet, which clearly showed three people emerging from the shipbuilding workshop and walking along a fixed route toward the various sentry posts.

The previous sentry at Post Three was relieved and headed back with the others, leaving the replacement alone.

Cyrus.

Leah watched the figure through her binoculars and said to Calista, “It’s him.”

Calista nodded. “Let’s move!”

Leah slipped quietly through the ruins toward Post Three, her heart pounding.

Daryl followed thirty meters behind with his crossbow loaded. Benson trailed a few meters off Daryl’s line, ready to provide cover at any moment.

Leah stopped behind a broken wall and peered through a crack. Cyrus stood at the entrance to the abandoned warehouse.

It had once been used to pile scrap, but it had been converted into a sentry post. A makeshift sandbag barrier stood at the entrance, with a battered sun umbrella propped up beside it.

With his back to the factory grounds and facing the ruins outside, he held an M4 in his hands. The magazine was heavily worn, but his grip on the rifle was steady.

Cyrus was much thinner than before. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved in ages, his beard a scraggly mess around his chin. Dark circles sat beneath deeply sunken eyes.

He stood there, motionless, like a statue left all alone and forgotten amid the ruins.

Leah took a deep breath, stood up, and stepped out from behind the broken wall.

The instant Cyrus saw her, his rifle came up on instinct. His finger went straight to the trigger, and his entire body tensed.

Then he recognized her face. The muzzle paused, still pointing at Leah’s chest, but his finger didn’t pull the trigger.

Leah didn’t move. She simply stood twenty meters away, her hands hanging at her sides, palms facing forward, signaling that she was unarmed.

Cyrus’s lips moved. His eyes widened and his pupils contracted sharply, as if he were seeing something impossible. “...Leah?”

“It’s me.”

“You… what are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.”

Cyrus froze. “Me? What do you want with me?”

Leah said nothing.

Cyrus shifted the muzzle away and pointed it toward the open ground beside them, but he did not lower the rifle or relax his guard.

“You shouldn’t have come,” he said. “If The Pope finds out...”

“I know,” Leah said.

Cyrus looked at her. “You know Pope...”

“I know what he’s like now.”

Cyrus turned silently and glanced into the warehouse. It was empty except for a pile of scrap and a battered camp bed. He turned back to Leah without lowering his guard. “Leah, how many people did you bring?”

“A few.”

“Where are they?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Cyrus fell silent again. He walked beneath the umbrella and sat down against the sandbags.

The movement was slow, like that of an exhausted person who had finally found a place to sit.

“What exactly are you here for?” he asked.

Leah took a step forward and looked at him intently. “I’m here to ask you a question.”

Cyrus watched her and waited. A mix of emotions flickered in his deep-set eyes, like a pebble dropped into stagnant water.

Leah stood in the sunlight and looked at him. Then she said each word clearly. “Cyrus, do you want to leave?”

Cyrus did not answer immediately. He looked at Leah’s serious face, then lowered his head and stared at the toes of his boots. In a hoarse voice, he repeated, “Leave? Go where?”

“Tennessee. The place I’m at now is called Rock Fortress. There’s electricity, water, food, and a lot of people. Several of our squads are there.”

Cyrus stayed silent for so long that Leah began to think he would not answer at all, or that he might expose them at any second.

Leah’s fingers shifted slightly. Hidden in the corner behind her, Daryl raised his crossbow. Benson peeked out at Cyrus, then at Daryl, and stayed still.

Then Cyrus spoke. “Leah, do you know what I think about every day?”

Daryl quietly let out a sigh of relief, while Benson shrugged with an “I knew it all along” look on his face.

Leah said nothing. Cyrus looked up at her. “Every day I stand in this godforsaken place, staring at those ruins, wondering if I’ll die today. Tomorrow. The day after that.”

He paused. “Not whether a walker will bite me to death. Whether God will kill me. You know Valentino?

“He was an old hand at the company, one of The Pope’s earliest people. Just because he didn’t believe The Pope’s ‘Chosen Ones’ doctrine and argued with him a few times, The Pope kicked him into the fire from behind and burned him alive...”

Cyrus’s voice was calm, but Leah heard grief that went all the way to the bone. “And now you come here asking whether I want to leave?”

Leah met his gaze. “Yes.”

Cyrus said softly, “I don’t dare even think about it.”

It was not that he did not want to. He did not dare.

Because after thinking about it, he would still have to keep standing there. That was even more painful than never letting himself think about it at all.

“Cyrus,” Leah said, “you can think about it.”

Cyrus’s lips moved. Leah took another step forward. “Come with me.”

Just as Cyrus opened his mouth to answer, a voice called from the ruins. “Cyrus? Who are you talking to?”

Everyone froze.

Leah’s hand instantly went to the grip of her pistol, but she did not draw. She took half a step back into the shadow of the broken wall.

Daryl, hidden nearby, took a deep breath, his finger on the crossbow’s trigger.

Cyrus shot to his feet, shock all over his face.

A tall, slender figure emerged from behind the rubble. He wore a black jacket faded white from repeated washing, with a tactical vest over it, and held an M4 in his hands.

Victor spotted Cyrus and approached with a smile. “Oh, I was bored out of my mind over there, so I came to find you...”

Then he spotted Leah behind the broken wall and froze. The muzzle of his rifle instinctively rose, but halfway up, he stopped.

Wait. He knew this woman. Or at least, he thought he did.

Victor stared at Leah, then shifted his gaze behind her. Benson was striding out of the rubble on the other side, while Daryl remained hidden in his spot, unnoticed.

Victor’s eyes widened. “…Benson? Benson! You’re still fucking alive!”

Benson’s expression was a bit complicated. “…Yeah, alive.”

Victor lowered his rifle and stood there staring at Benson, delighted, confused, and still slightly wary. “Where... where did you guys go? The Pope said you were dead.”

Benson looked down and put a hand on his chest. Yep, the old ticker was still beating strong. He looked up at Victor and spread his hands. “Obviously, I’m not dead. We left.”

Victor froze for a moment. “Left? Where to?”

“Tennessee.”

Victor fell silent. He looked at Cyrus, then at Leah and Benson, and finally noticed their clothes, neat dark combat uniforms.

The surprise on his face slowly faded, replaced by something more complex. “You… you’ve joined someone else?”

Benson nodded. “Yeah.”

“You fucking defected!!!”

Victor exploded, his voice cracking. “You all defected!!!”

Benson’s expression darkened instantly, his right hand already on the hilt of the knife at his waist.

At the exact same moment, Leah raised her gun.

Two people, two weapons, aimed at Victor as he charged toward them.

“Victor!” Cyrus jumped to his feet, spreading his arms to step between them. “Don’t do this!”

“Get out of the way!”

Victor’s eyes were bloodshot and tears covered his face, but his rifle did not waver. It remained trained on Benson. “They’re traitors! They betrayed the Lord! They betrayed The Pope! They betrayed all of us!”

Benson looked at him coldly and spoke fast in a low voice. “Leah, this guy isn’t one of the peripheral people. He’s close to The Pope. He genuinely believes in God.”

Leah’s expression shifted slightly, but she didn’t lower her gun.

Victor saw the look in Leah’s eyes, and his anger flared even more. “Fuck you! Do you really want to kill me?!”

He lunged forward, the muzzle of his gun nearly pressing against Benson’s chest.

Cyrus clung tightly to his arm. “Victor! Calm down!!”

“Calm down?! They defected! They, they...”

Victor could not stop crying, but the expression on his face was pure rage. “I fucking thought you were dead! I fucking cried for you! Every night I prayed and begged the Lord to protect you...”

He roared, “And you fucking defected!!”

Benson’s voice remained calm. “Victor, listen to me. Put the gun down.”

“Like hell I will!!!”